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“Invasion” – Nayana Nair

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What makes us lose our sleep
is the fear of each other
that keeps us awake,
keeps us on guard all our life.
If it was just slaughter that we feared
we could still calm our nerves.
But we fear an invasion followed by abandonment,
that makes it that much more difficult
to overcome the urge to lock out the love
that could solve everything,
as it is also capable
of making us aware
of a deeper pain
a deeper loss
than the one we are already suffering of.

“In the Image of” – Nayana Nair

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I am not talking about
enhancing my likability here.
But just to be taken seriously
I need to like certain things,
I need to act certain way.
I need to fill forms
whenever I meet someone new,
whenever I meet them again.

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Am I capable? Am I an intellectual (of the right kind)?
Am I still childish?
Am I still unable to follow the conversation
that is not spoken in the language I follow?
Am I still reluctant to give up on all the things
that are no longer relevant.
Am I now ready to listen and only listen
to take in
the version of a world that is more widely accepted.
Am I finally aligned with the opinions, interests
and common hatred that bonds us?
Have I grown weak and weary
of the silence that I am put through?
Have I realized what I could do, whom all I can befriend
if I break myself in image of my oppressor?

“More Boxes” – Nayana Nair

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Everyday I buy more boxes and more trunks,
to stow away the harmless opinions and stories of mine
that have never left my mouth,
and have never known
how the cold air of this world feels like.
They are better off not knowing
how they are going to be broken and crushed
till nothing of them is left.
Let them die in the voiceless trunks.
At least a corpse of what they were
and the soul of what they lost
shall be locked in the same walls.
That’s the only kindness I am capable of delievering-
to spare them the purity of meaning
and dignity of thought
that was never put to question
and never put to shame
by this world
that to everyone does the same.

“Act Better” – Nayana Nair

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I have turned my face
from every confrontation
that I cannot tolerate.
I have stuck to my thoughts
and my denials.
I continue to agree with people
whom I find agreeable
and people who can help me think
that I am thinking right.
I have not learnt much in life.
And even when I realize my dubious nature,
I am not sure whether my efforts to improve
actually improve me
or are they just lessons to act better, pretend better,
to keep my immaturity bottled up.
But I do not mind such an arrangement
even if it is frustrating,
if only I could cushion this world
from the hatred I am capable of.

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